CounterStrike
by VZero
Summary: Well, I wasn't really satisfied with my Half-Life fic so I tried my hand at Counter-Strike. Hope you enjoy :)


Counter-Strike: Dust

As the sprawling visage of the Baghdad marketplace appeared, Covert Special Forces Team Counter-Strike sat in the back of the Black Hawk helicopter. The team had been formed six months earlier following a UN meeting discussing a rise in terrorism worldwide. Sitting near one of the side doors was Captain John Easton, the leader of the team. He had spent over 20 years with the SEALS and a short but successful tour of duty with Delta Force. It was natural selection that made him the leader. He looked to Jim, their machine gunner with his M249 sitting on his lap, his young face hyped up for the team's first mission. Jim was the new guy. He had spent only a few months with the team but was showing extreme potential. He could place six shots into the head of a target 100 meters away in target practice. Nonetheless, he still had a lot to learn. The team had been formed six months earlier following a UN meeting discussing a rise in terrorism worldwide. The team was made up of the best SEALS, SAS, GSG9 and GIGN men, all heavily trained in counter-terrorism. As the landing site loomed into view, John thought about today's mission. Several chemical weapon crates had been mixed in with the regular shipments of grain and a group of terrorists had found out about them and were going to attempt to bomb the crates. If any of the crates were bombed, the wind would spread the bio agent all over the entire east side of Baghdad. Not pretty. The terrorists had already sealed off the area to avoid any coalition troops and civilians who would try to stop them and many innocents were out of the area so it would be fairly safe to open fire. There were two sites where the crates were stored, one right beside a mosque, and one at the landing site. Upon landing, Team A would stay behind to guard the crates and Team B would secure the other crates. John's train of though was cut off by the thump of landing. All eight of the men jumped off the helicopter into a windstorm of sand and dust. The team immediately took notice of the olive green boxes stacked on top of each other. There were biohazard-warning labels all over the crates and it was a surprise at how the crates got mixed in with the normal shipments. John's voice crackled over the radio. "Alright let's go! You guys should know the plan, Team A stay behind and protect those crates!" Team B consisted of four men: John, Jim, Allen and Alfred. Allen was the team's sharpshooter and Alfred was a rifleman; both were from the SAS. As Team B set off, Team A got themselves into position.

As Team B crossed under a large archway and toward the bombsite, they immediately came under fire. Two terrorists started firing their AK-47's at the men. Tim managed to take out one of them, the man's chest splashing with red before they had to retreat backwards down a ramp into an underground tunnel. "I saw at least four guys behind those double doors leading to the bomb site." Tim said. "I don't think we should just barge in there unless someone has a flashbang." A grimace passed over John's face. "All the flashbangs are with Team A. We have no choice but to go around and through the backdoor of the mosque." Said John. The back door was just above and around the tunnel so they proceeded through the litter filled tunnel and out into sunlight again. They came to a large arched passageway leading into the dark mosque. They took up positions on opposite sides of the passageway and waited for the command. "Allen, check for any patrols," ordered John. Allen looked around the corner and saw a terrorist standing with his back to the passageway. "I see one," said Allen. John looked around his corner and saw two terrorists conversing in Arabic. "Take out your guy and we'll rush and take out the other two." Ordered John. Allen levelled his Steyr Scout Sniper Rifle at the man's head and fired. As the bullet left the barrel of the gun, John and Tim rushed into the dark mosque, guns blazing. They easily took out the surprised terrorists and took cover behind a large crate. Allen and Alfred rushed in a split second afterward and took cover behind a couple of oil drums. "Funny," Alfred thought, "These oil drums are everywhere in Iraq."

Things were quiet at Team A's post. Wind was blowing dust and tin cans away. Suddenly, they heard a footstep. Igon levelled his gun at a small passage to the left of the landing zone. Igon was the Team A leader. He was from Germany and naturally, served in the GSG9. His superiors transferred him to the US before he was chosen for Counter-Strike. He always carried a customized Desert Eagle and he was a deadshot with it. Who says the Deagle shouldn't be used for combat? The team quietly waited for more footsteps and came they did. A terrorist came walking casually around the corner, obviously on patrol. He turned his head and spotted an entire team of highly trained elite Special Forces troops all with their guns trained on him. Igon saw the man's jaw drop before it was blown off in a mist of red. He dropped dead. Suddenly, shots came from around the corner. "He had a friend," thought Igon. Richard, an SAS rifleman, pointed his AUG at the wall and fired off a volley of shots. The bullets passed through the weak bricks and collided with the terrorist's body. He was initially hit with three tumbling bullets, which lodged themselves in his shoulder. He dived down to avoid more but as luck would have it, another bullet passed through the wall and spun cleanly into his head, painting the contents of it across the wall. The wind blew through the silence.

Light was shining and in from small windows embedded in the dome of the mosque highlighting small dust particles floating around in the air. It shone across Alfred and Allen, still hiding behind the oil barrels. "So what do we do now?" asked Alfred. "We need to see how many guys are out there," replied John. "They might be planting the bomb as we speak so we gotta work quickly." John peeked his head around the crate. He could see the olive green crates of the chemical weapons but no terrorists. "Looks clear but proceed with caution." As they slowly made their way toward the doorway, a terrorist appeared around the back door corner with his gun out. They barely had any time to react before the rifle rounds penetrated into the ground. As they ran backwards toward the bombsite, John unhooked a grenade from his belt and threw towards the terrorist. The grenade clattered and rolled towards the oil drums before exploding. The oil drums were blown in all directions, one of them hitting the terrorist and snapping his neck. As they ran out into the sunlight, they became aware of the five terrorist gun sights they had ran into. They froze. There was a split second that passed before the terrorists opened fire. Time seemed to slow down as the four men dived to the ground simultaneously, firing their rifles. Three terrorists fell immediately, their various bullet holes oozing blood as the other terrorists ran for more cover. They began firing again once they crouched behind a crate, one of their bullets connecting with Alfred's shoulder. He barely felt it as he hit the ground, still firing. His M4A1 considerably lighter, he rolled behind a wooden crate to reload. Jim was strafing around the two terrorists, wildly firing his machine gun. One of the bullets impacted a terrorist's head, blowing a fist-sized hole in his forehead. Seeing this, the other terrorist got up and ran for another location for cover, firing along the way. He rolled behind an oil barrel and resumed firing. Click. The terrorist looked at his gun with shock, and up to Tim. The terrorist had just enough time to pull a knife before his chest was blown out by the machine gun. Time resumed its normal speed. Beep. John looked around. Beep. He spotted a small green block with wires protruding out of it wedged between two olive green crates. Beep. John ran over to the bomb and spotted its blinking LED display. It was counting down from 30. Beep. He quickly got out a pair of pliers and began to cut wires. Beep. He was down to two wires. Normally, in movies, this was where the hero would start pondering "Red or blue?" But not John. He cut the red wire. The LED froze and faded out. He pulled the bomb out from the two crates and started to make his way toward the landing site. Alfred, Allen and Jim followed. "Bomb has been neutralized, proceeding to extraction point," John said into the radio.

Igon smiled at John's voice. In a moment, they would be coming up that ramp and they could go home. "Birdie One, all objectives completed, lets go home." Igon said into the radio. The helicopter appeared a few moments later and Team A got into the chopper. John and the others came around the corner, running for the helicopter. Following them was one last terrorist. By instinct, Igon pulled his Desert Eagle, quickly took aim, and fired. The terrorist's head exploded like a watermelon. John looked back at the mess and signalled thanks to Igon as they got onto the chopper. As Baghdad faded away, they passed the now harmless bomb around. "Hmm, C4. I wonder how they got their hands on this. Most of the bombs they use are made of potassium chlorate," wondered Alfred. He passed the bomb to Igon. He spotted some lettering on the bomb. "Hey John, look at this," He passed it over. There, John saw, were the words L337 KREW PWNS JOO! "Oh no," John whispered.

Well, hope you liked it! There's going to be another one coming, Assault, in a few weeks maybe so watch out for it.


End file.
